


King of Anything

by ibreathethroughwords



Series: A Man With a Beard [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Fighting, M/M, Mystical Match-Making Bullshit, References to Draven/Kallus, References to Kallus/Lyste, References to Rau/Kallus, References to Zeb/Lyste, The Ashla Works In Mysterious Ways, read the other parts first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21600007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibreathethroughwords/pseuds/ibreathethroughwords
Summary: He turned his head to glare at Zeb and had to try hard not to look pleased when the sharpness of it sent the Lasat back a step. "Whose underwear are they, Zeb?" he asked, voice still a little hoarse from having Draven's cock using his throat."What?" Zeb replied, caught off guard. Flustered, he glanced around the room, and caught sight of the pair on his bunk. When he swore vehemently in his own language, Kallus took that as his cue to slide from his bunk as quietly and threateningly as he could. It would do Zeb well to remember that he wasn't the only lethal sentient in the room right now.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Alexsandr Kallus/Previous One-Night Stands
Series: A Man With a Beard [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/737943
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54





	King of Anything

**Author's Note:**

> _You're so busy makin' maps_  
>  With my name on them in all caps  
> You've got the talkin' down  
> Just not the listening  
> 
> 
> _And who cares if you disagree?_  
>  You are not me  
> Who made you king of anything?  
> So you dare tell me who to be  
> Who died and made you king of anything?  
> 
> 
>   
> —  
> You’ll want to have read the other parts before this. I’m not sure it will make any sense otherwise. 

He'd managed to shower and shave before Zeb had returned from retrieving his things, so Kallus pulled on proper pajamas and sat down heavily on the Lasat's bunk. It smelled of him, not strongly enough to overwhelm, but enough that Kallus couldn’t resist the temptation to curl up on it. It wasn't as though this was the first time he'd found himself sleeping in his friend's bed. Nightmares had driven him from his own bunk before: visions of things he had done to others, things others had done to him, and new fears had pushed him into Zeb's arms for comfort on many occasions.

Now, however, felt very different. They had argued before, certainly, but never before had they fought like this. Definitely not for such an inane reason. The Ashla? Please. Kallus rolled his eyes, and slid his right hand under the pillow to draw it closer. 

Something crunched when his fingers brushed against it. That texture was awfully familiar. Suspicious, Kallus sat up, drawing the thing out from under the pillow with him. Imperial standard issue boxer briefs? They definitely weren't his, but another former Imperial had been in this bed very recently. He fumed. Cum stained the inside and outside of the dirty underwear.

That hypocritical—! He refused to lie on this bed any longer. Kallus dropped the damning evidence, and climbed up to his own bunk. While he'd rather storm off the ship, this absolutely deserved a confrontation. All of the fussing from Zeb about Kallus's partners, that bullshit story about the Ashla, and he'd been fucking Lyste! 

Zeb had let Kallus cry into him, had held him in the bed he'd fucked Lyste in, and had lied to him only half-an-hour ago with Yogar Lyste's cum-stained underwear tucked under his pillow like a trophy. Humiliation turned his stomach, threatened tears at his eyes again. Kallus buried his head in his own pillow, fists clenching tight at the sides of it, as he tried to decide if he was recklessly jumping to conclusions or not. 

What else could be concluded from the present evidence? After 20 years in law enforcement he knew to trust his gut. 

He could hear Zeb's voice in the corridor. Kallus was so tired of fighting with him, but if his answer when confronted was what Kallus suspected this was going to be a very loud argument.

"I'm back," Zeb announced, tone faltering when he realized Kallus wasn't on the bottom bunk. He stopped short in the doorway before taking another step in and locking the door. There was no noise but Zeb's breathing for a short moment, then Kallus heard him set down his things and come closer. Anybody shorter than Zeb wouldn't have seen him easily, wedged as tightly against the wall of his bunk as he was, but Zeb came right up to the bunk.

"I can hear your breathing, Kallus. I know you're not asleep yet." His voice was pitched low, soothing. Better than loud and obnoxious for an attempt to draw him out, Kallus supposed. 

He turned his head to glare at Zeb and had to try hard not to look pleased when the sharpness of it sent the Lasat back a step. "Whose underwear are they, Zeb?" he asked, voice still a little hoarse from having Draven's cock using his throat.

"What?" Zeb replied, caught off guard. Flustered, he glanced around the room, and caught sight of the pair on his bunk. When he swore vehemently in his own language, Kallus took that as his cue to slide from his bunk as quietly and threateningly as he could. It would do Zeb well to remember that he wasn't the only lethal sentient in the room right now. He advanced on the Lasat silently, gracefully, with jaw and fists clenched.

"Whose, _Garazeb_?" The Coruscanti accent was a gift unto itself sometimes. It allowed for a very soft emphasis on words, if one wanted, without being obvious about it at all, unlike the harsher Human accents such as many of those on Outer Rim worlds.

No answer was forthcoming. He let Zeb duck passed him, change directions so he was being backed toward the bunks and the offending item. Excellent. Kallus could rub his nose in it, figuratively speaking, and still have an escape route behind him.

He halted his advance one-and-a-half meters away, and looked away from Zeb for a second before returning the full force of his glare on him. Clearing his throat to speak didn't take the edge off it, he hoped. "Are they Lyste's, Zeb? I know he was in your bed. Did you fuck him before you implied I was a slut and scared the hell out of me, or after?"

Zeb's ears flattened, folded back, and his eyes widened. "It was just some drunk grinding! I didn't fuck him!"

"You fucking hypocrite!" Kallus turned his back on Zeb and folded his arms over his chest while he fumed, pacing to the other side of the bunk and back. What did he do now that he had confirmation?

The Lasat watched him pace, watched him work it out in his head, with a guilty look on his face that did absolutely nothing to pacify Kallus purely because he wasn't going to allow it to. "Alexsandr," he said quietly after Kallus had stopped moving and had his back to him. Two big hands rested on his shoulders.

No, he wasn't having that either. The Human whirled, knocking away Zeb's grip. It wasn't even gratifying to see him flinch. "Don't," Kallus hissed. "You said some awful shit, and then you, what, had him in your bunk? There are cum stains on the inside and outside of that pair. Did he ask to see it? That's not just drunk grinding. He wasn't even supposed to be drinking, Zeb!"

Usually when he ended up upset enough to raise his voice, it ended up going high-pitched. Kallus could count on his fingers the number of times he'd only gotten louder. This wasn't a stressful, life-threatening situation: he was genuinely enraged. It had cracked at the end because he'd overworked his throat, was no longer used to yelling anyway, and his eyes couldn't seem to decided if he was going to cry or not.

Kallus forced himself to quiet down. "You held me in that bed and spun me a lie with those," he paused to wave at Lyste's underwear, "right under my head."

Zeb mouthed "a lie" at Kallus as he looked at him in confusion as though he didn't know to what Kallus was referring! "The Ashla, Garazeb!"

"But it's the truth!" the Lasat insisted. "I didn't enjoy sleeping with Yogar at all!"

"You came from it, you lying piece of—"

Zeb cut him off with a roll of his eyes and a dismissive wave of his hand. "Stimulate any cock enough and you'll get a male to orgasm! It made me sick to sleep with him. I threw up afterward and it'll happen anytime I get off with anybody who isn't you! It's completely different from you fucking half the base in three days!"

Half the base! Kallus stiffened and clenched his hands into fists. "Three people are not 'half the base' just because they aren't you, and if you ever breathe a word to anybody about Draven I will drop you into the nearest sun! If you want my affections, this is the wrong the way to get them!" Damn, but he was starting to lose his voice.

"Three people is a lot less than what I've heard."

"For fuck's sake, Zeb, did you ever consider asking me if what you heard was true? You know I'm not fully comfortable here, especially since my _former best friend_ has implied I'm a slut multiple days in a row, threatened me, terrified me, made me feel unsafe on the one ship on which I should no longer have that problem, and then told me it's some mystical force's fault!"

Kallus was shaking with rage, with pain. It had been years since he'd felt betrayal like this. He couldn't sleep here. Could he get away with changing in front of Zeb, or would he have to leave the ship in his pajamas? Probably. The entire base was going to see that humiliating display as well, more rumors would fly, and Draven would have his fucking head off for another round of acting in a way unbecoming of an officer. Today's dressing down had been bad enough. The best he could do would be to apologize first thing in the morning and apply for an immediate transfer. If he changed his appearance he could go back to field work. Working solo was probably best. Getting attached to people wasn't safe.

As Zeb was insistent on demonstrating.

The Lasat was silent. Had turned away from him. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides: Kallus tensed. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I don't know what you want me to say," Zeb said when he turned around. At least he had the presence of mind to look serious, to look properly embarrassed by his own behavior in his mess. "I'm no good at proper apologizing, if that's what you want."

Was he _serious_? That's what Zeb was going with. Kallus's mouth fell open in shock. "Then you had best figure it out, Garazeb, before I convince Draven that a transfer off Yavin for me would be best for everyone involved." Walking barefoot through the temple would be risky for his feet, trying to find a place to hide in his pajamas would be mortifying, but Kallus turned on his heel, punched in the code to unlock the door, and found himself tugged back against Zeb’s strong chest. Arms like stone pillars wrapped around him and held him close. 

It was a clawed foot that punched the lock code back in.

Kallus sighed, and some of the fight went out of him. Honestly, it was ridiculous, the things Zeb could and did use his feet to do. “I wasn’t done talking,” Zeb groused into his ear, voice low and angry. “I know I messed up. What do you want me to do to fix it?”

His nose pressed to Kallus’s neck, scenting him. Damn his body. General Draven had already gotten him off — had given him a damn intense orgasm too — and somehow, Zeb scenting his neck, holding him against that duracrete wall he called a chest, had Kallus’s cock ready to go again. Zeb could smell it too. That small purr starting up meant arousal. They’d shared a room long enough that he’d heard it when Zeb thought he was asleep and it was safe to jack off.

Well, and he could feel the hugeness of him pressing against his ass: probably in response to Kallus’s scent. If that story about the Ashla was true, did that mean Zeb was always going to be responsive to his arousal? What would happen to Zeb when he died a good century before he did? Of course, that assumed Kallus died of old age.

“I want a proper apology,” he repeated. “A sincere apology.”

Zeb’s arms tightened around him, but released him easily enough when Kallus turned to face him. “I want you to apologize and mean it. I want you to tell me every thing you did wrong and mean it when you tell me you won’t do it again, Zeb. I want you to tell me what exactly it is you need from me, and what you want from me: in as exacting detail as you possibly can, and I want you to be willing to compromise on those things. If you can do that, I will consider what you’re asking.”

There was a thoughtful look on Zeb’s face as he guided them both to his bunk. “You mind if I sleep on all of it? It’s a lot of thoughts to get together.”

Kallus scowled at him a little as he let himself be pressed against the bulkhead wall and smothered in fur. “You have until this time tomorrow to follow through, or _I will_.”

“Fair enough,” Zeb agreed, and wrapped a big arm around him. “Now shut up and use me as a pillow.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last part to this series, thanks for sticking with me!


End file.
